


splort and a pastime

by hecleretical



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Baltimore Crabs (Blaseball Team), M/M, listen this is purely self indulgent but sometimes youve just gotta, worst man on team at giving emotional support actually does a pretty good job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 00:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30080742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hecleretical/pseuds/hecleretical
Summary: jacoby podcast gets worried. brock forbes talks them down for the ???th time.
Relationships: Jacoby Podcast/Kennedy Loser
Kudos: 15





	splort and a pastime

When Brock Forbes finds Jacoby Podcast they are in the outfield lying face down in the grass. One of those, huh. The kid's not even bad at pitching through it, keeps their head together well enough on the mound even when things go like shit, but after a game....one of those, huh.

The eclipse hasn't fully cleared overhead. "Podcast."

No response.

"What're you doing, kid?"

"Oh, you know." Their voice comes out muffled. "Having some me time."

Brock sighs through his nose and squats down next to them. Idly, he starts plucking blades of grass and twisting them through his fingers. This could take a while.

"You let two runs up, Podcast," he says. "Not your fault our lineup can't hit the ball."

"My ERA this season is 3.5."

"Which seems bad because your ERA last season was 2.32. Lotta pitchers never get below a 3.5."

Podcast makes a strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. Brock sighs again.

"Come on, kid. Umps might still be out. Loser's got us all looking for you."

"Good." Their voice is sulky. "I hope I get incinerated. I hope I die instantly."

Brock waits.

It's not that Podcast is a bad kid. Really. They've just never had to live through fighting an angry god and it shows. Kid's all in on a glorious career, setting records, making their name, and what the Crabs are vibing with these days is survival. And it makes them a good pitcher, makes 'em try hard and put in the work, but it also makes them have crying meltdowns in the grass where Brock woulda just shrugged his shoulders and said "Crabs bad".

They're going through one of their elaborate schpiels about how they'll get incinerated and sent to the Hall and then nobody will give them peanuts and even if one person does give them peanuts a squirrel will eat the peanuts and it'll be what they deserve for being a season-and-a-half pitcher of no account-- "Podcast."

"I _should_ be incinerated."

"Nah." Brock sprinkles some torn up grass on their head, more for his own amusement than anything else. "You want to know why?"

A mumble.

"First off. We don't have the Fourth Strike. Our offense sucks and even if you give up two runs they might not make it back. You've got to pitch twice as well. Not fair to you."

Podcast is silent.

"Second, hate to say it, but you're a rookie. And you're a good rookie. But JT's been playing blaseball for twenty years. Rod dot net's been playing blaseball for twenty years. Some of it's you. Four seam fastball's not gonna take you everywhere. Some of it's just learning, tricks you'll pick up in time. All of it's something you can learn to do. Not gonna happen in one game or one season. You're still a rookie."

"I'm a rookie _on the Crabs_."

"So?"

They sniffle. Brock sighs. Another one of those things. 

"Kid," he says, more gently. "I know you just got your first ring. And that's great. You did great. You're not gonna do that every season. Not even Crabs fans expect that."

"Don't they? Isn't that what happened to Bevan?"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Bevan was....Bevan was bad, okay? Nice guy, but bad. You're not."

"What if I _am_ bad." Podcast's voice comes out small, like a little kid's. "What if they send me back to the Shadows."

Oh. That's what it's about. "Not gonna happen," he says, firmly as he can. "For one thing, Loser'd never let them."

They laugh a little, bitterly. "Right, good job me for dating the team captain."

Brock flicks their ear, hard.

"Cut that shit out."

Silence. They flinch a little; good.

"You know the last person Loser had a thing for? Nagomi McDaniel. Last person before that? Me, first season. He doesn't go for just anyone. You know why I dumped him?"

Muffled, sulky: "I'unno."

"Chickenshit scared of commitment. And _you're the only guy_ he's got over it for." 

Brock lets that sink in. "This whole time, twenty fucking years, he's been too scared someone'd die or be traded or be feedbacked or be trapped in a giant peanut shell for three years at a time. Watched all that shit happen to his own teammates. And he got over it for you. I don't think about the guy who does that, 'hope we send 'em back to the Shadows'. I think 'God fucking damn, am I glad this new guy is around to make my buddy happy'."

Long pause again. Brock shifts uneasily on the balls of his feet. Doesn't usually say this many words at once, about anything.

Podcast rolls over onto their side, curls up. Their eyes are red and puffy. "He really....?"

"He loves you, Podcast." Brock sighs. What an obvious thing to have to say. But Podcast looks like they might start crying again just hearing it.

"Stuff like this, it's the fans. It's not up to us. But Loser cares about you, Parra cares about you, Davids cares about you. I-- you're a good pitcher. Nobody wants it, okay? Nobody thinks you're-- letting the Crabs name down, or whatever stupid bullshit you tell yourself."

They sit up, finally. Rub their eyes. Brock's just glad the pep talk is over, Jlesus he's not good at these.

Someone's coming across the outfield towards them-- Loser. Brock knows him pretty well, knows how tense he's holding himself, even at a distance. Knows the pure relief on his face as he comes closer and sees they're both okay.

"Come on, kid," he says. "Bus is about to leave and you made your boyfriend come looking for you." And then, "Hey, Loser."

Guy just gives him a nod before he kneels next to Podcast and wraps them up in a big hug. Really does just have eyes for one person, Brock thinks in fond exasperation.

"Don't do that," Loser says. "Jacoby, I got scared."

Brock stands up, stretches, looks anywhere else kind of awkwardly. Let 'em have their moment, y'know? But it's good that Loser can say what he's feeling, honestly, and as they make their way back to the parking lot, where everyone's been waiting chewing their claws, that's what he thinks about.


End file.
